


The Thunderer's Queen

by bluetoast



Series: The Thunderer and the Ice Prince [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things come full circle with Thor and Loki, following the death of Odin and Loki's return from Jotunheim.</p><p>Part 4 of 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thunderer's Queen

In spite of his grief, Thor refused the council's suggestion that Loki and the children be brought back the morning after the Allfather died. He and his father had given their word to the prince of Jotunheim that he would have his twenty-five days, no matter what occurred on Asgard; and the uncrowned king vowed to keep that promise. The twins were far too young and it didn't particularly matter; as for Jora and Leyla, they would understand when they came back. Or he would be better able to explain things when they did. He could only imagine the grief that King Laufey had gone through when Loki had been taken prisoner.

It most certainly would have been heartbreaking to learn what his son's fate had been – and again, the shame at what he had done burned in Thor's stomach. The guilt had only grown worse, even after he and Loki's discussion. The worst of it was looking at his three eldest and remembering what he had done to their mother – making memories that were once sweet turn sour. Such as the day he first noticed the rounding of Loki's belly as Valdór grew in his womb. The taste of mead had grown flat when it washed over his tongue, the notion he'd been so inebriated, he'd stumbled into Loki's bed and sired Jösur and not even been aware he'd had sex until he awoke the next morning, the jotun slumbering beside him.

Thor grasped the back of his chair and shook his head, trying to clear his head and compose himself. The funeral was in just an hour, and he couldn't be seen such a wreck by the people of Asgard. He was king now, (even if uncrowned) and they needed him to appear strong and carry on the work of the late Allfather. 

“Papa?” Valdór's voice came from the doorway. “It's time.” 

He nodded and came over to his eldest, who looked much older than his age. “Where is your brother?”

“He and Thalia are helping Grandmother.” He took a breath. “I don't think she wants to go down to the harbor either.” 

He clamped his son's shoulder. “Duty is never easy.” He sighed. 

“Doing unbearable things year-round.” He cracked a small smile. “That's what mama said duty is.” 

Thor frowned and said the words to himself and then chuckled. “Something like that.” The two of them headed down the corridor. “You are not upset that your mother is not here, are you?”

“I think it's... sort of strange not having mama here. He's always been here, and it... well, I wish he was here and at the same time, I'd rather be on Jotunheim with him.” He frowned. “That's... that's okay, right?”

“Yes, and I understand. We all wish we could be somewhere else from time to time.” They went down the stairs to wait for his mother and his two other elder children. “Your mother has not see his family in many years, I did not feel it was fair of him to come back to Asgard when he'd only been gone a day.”

“I rather envy the girls. They don't have to go to the funeral.” He pursed his lip. “Then again, I don't think there's enough of us to carry the girls and take care of Grandmother, even with Orr's help.” 

“I am certain that Leyla and Jora can walk to the harbor under their own power just fine, Valdór.” Thor replied, giving his son a wry look.

“I know they can, I just don't know if they could also walk back.” He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious, which his father realized it was.

“They will be home soon, do not worry.” He sighed and turned as they heard footsteps approaching and a moment later, his mother, her face downcast appeared at the top of the stairs, flanked on each side by two of her grandchildren. 

*  
Loki disagreed with Thor on telling the girls about their grandfather. When he'd received the missive the afternoon after he'd arrived home on Jotunheim, at first, he'd been nothing but controlled fury, fully expecting the letter to contain orders for him to return to Asgard at once. Instead, it was a quick note stating that the Allfather was dead, and that he and the girls did not have to return for the funeral. For that, he was immensely thankful, but he felt that Jora and Leyla needed to know what happened on Asgard before they returned. For all his faults, King Odin had doted on all of his grandchildren, but particularly Leyla, who in the words of his father King Laufey, could tame a frost bear with just her smile alone. The twins, however, were far too young and would never have a memory of the man.

There was a slight measure of satisfaction in that.

Right now, however, Leyla and Jora were having a splendid time here on their dam's home-realm and he could not bring himself to ruin their fun with such tragic news. What difference did it make if he didn't tell them for a few more days? Was that not the point of them staying here? The twins were currently sleeping and the girls were out building a snow castle with their uncles. 

For himself, Loki was feeling rather like a child again himself, sitting in his father's lap, letting the older jotun comfort him as if he were Jösur's age, and not over a millennium old. He closed his eyes, resting his head against Laufey's collarbone, trying not to cry.

“Ssh.” His father whispered, rubbing his knuckles down Loki's back. “You have been so brave, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of.”

“I cannot help what I feel.” He clenched his hands. “I should have...”

“Little one, you have suffered so much, but the ones you left behind have thrived. Your sacrifice was not in vain.” Laufey pressed his nose to the top of his head. “I know that is poor comfort, my son.”

“No, no it is good to know. I feared the worst when I was taken prisoner. Mostly for the children.” He sighed. “I feared you would disown me for surrendering the border city, for letting the Æsir win.” 

“They proved nothing other than they are bullies. A wise prince will know how to be prudent, and you knew that our people could not withstand the attack without risking the lives of countless innocent jotuns.” Laufey's arms came around him and cradled him. “If anyone, jotun, elf, Midgardian or Æsir calls you a coward in my hearing, I will slaughter them where they stand.”

Loki let out a half-chuckle. “You don't have to do that, papa.” 

“Oh, but I'd want to.” He started fussing with his hair. “My fine, brave son who chose slavery for himself to save sixty-thousand citizens of Jotunheim.” He let out a snort. “I doubt there is another in any of the nine realms who would make such a sacrifice.” 

“There might be.” He opened his eyes and wrapped his arms around one of Laufey's. “Forgive me, Father, but I am glad that mother did not live to see my shame.”

“Listen to me, little one.” The king lifted Loki's chin with a finger. “There is no shame. There is no disgrace. That is what the Æsir think they have done. Do not let them convince you it is true.” A tiny smile played on his lips. “Quite frankly, every single woman on Asgard should be insane with envy for you, my son. You have birthed the future king of that realm, and if Thor cares for your children as deeply as you do, then you have no need to fear that he will ever have another child whom he will place on the throne before your eldest.”

Loki slowly nodded. “It... I wish I did not have to return, but I cannot abandon the eldest three for my own selfish reasons.” His eyes narrowed. “I will not any of them learn the hate and prejudice that is in the minds and hearts of so many Asgardians.”

“Such a wise child.” Laufey sighed. “Return you must, but this time, you are not a slave.” He tapped Loki's nose, the smile becoming more certain. “Odin Allfather is dead, and Thor is soon to be the king. I do not doubt that he will grant you your freedom shortly, but he knows you won't be leaving the children. You must use the influence you are bound to gain to your advantage.” 

“I do not see any great influence coming my way, Father. To almost all who dwell in the realm eternal, I am nothing more than a savage frost giant from a barren wasteland.” He shook his head.

“You are a proud and mighty prince of Jotunheim, with seven children that they cannot curse without cursing their king.” He smirked. 

“What, do you think I should return to Asgard and suggest to Thor that we get married? I despise the man's actions and...” This wasn't exactly how Loki had been thinking this conversation would go.

“And if you become queen, you will have the power to help prevent wars.” He smiled. “You are clever and wise, Thor will learn to value your opinion above all others.”

“Excuse me father, but I do not feel like having Thor back in my bed anytime soon.” He shuddered. “It's... beyond complicated.” 

“Now, who said you had to do that?” He sighed. “Political marriage, since the issue of heirs is already taken care of.” he went back to cradling him. 

“Well, that is true.” Loki sighed. “It's having to involve the children that pains me.” 

“You are their dam and a wonderful one at that. You care about your children more than anything; you have always had the desire to protect children, even when you were one.” The king closed his eyes. “It will work out, my son. You will see.” 

*  
“You cannot be serious.” Thor stared at the privy council as if they had all lost their minds. Perhaps they had. His father's funeral was not four days past, and he doubted the foods from the funeral feast were even completely gone, not only that, he himself hadn't been officially crowned king yet, and the council had brought up the one subject he wanted nothing to do with. “I do not need to marry. I have seven children – that is more than enough to ensure the line of succession.” The lords looked uncomfortable, as if they were afraid he would strike them all with Mjolnir, which was something he actually would very much like to do at this point. If Father had still been alive, they would never have dared suggest it. 

“It is not your lack of children, your grace.” Lord Pells shifted in his seat. “But the people of Asgard expect for their king to have a queen.”

“You mean the nobles expect me to have a queen.” He spat, not bothering to keep the venom from his voice. “One of their daughters, or granddaughters.” 

“Your grace, it simply... arrangements such as your simply aren't done. While we do not contest the line of succession, there is the small fact that...”

“That I am expected to wed and produce full-blooded Æsir children.” He clenched his fist, his stomach was boiling. “I refuse to continue the subject of my needing to marry, I have heirs, which not only have I recognized, but my late father did as well.” He narrowed his eyes. “And if one of you even breathes a word about starting on arranged marriages to secure support from any realm, lord, or kingdom via one of my five daughters, you will find yourself exiled before you can gather up a traveling cloak.”

Lord Kelar cleared his throat. “Of course not, your grace. The princesses are far to young for such a subject to even come into a conversation.” He took a breath. “People are only looking for stability, your grace. By marrying it would...”

“This subject is closed.” Thor clasped his hand on the edge of the table, glad it was made of strong enough material that he wasn't going to break it. “There are more pressing matters on Asgard and the Nine Realms than my material status.” He took a breath. “Midgard will be returning the Tesseract to Asgard. They have decided it is safer with us, rather than risk it falling into the wrong hands again, as it did seventy years ago.”

“It is a wonder that mankind has not completely annihilated themselves.” Lord Pells muttered. “And several of the people involved are not happy with the situation.” 

“I am certain that if these people were even shown a glimpse of what could come through the Tesseract to harm their realm, they would be begging for us to take it back.” Lord Agn interjected. 

Everyone the table nodded in agreement.

“Your grace, would it be prudent to also discuss coronation plans?' Lord Kelar looked uncertain and Thor did not entirely blame him. “There are many things...”

Thor held up his hand. “There is nothing to discuss on that subject, it is in capable hands.” 

*  
When he told Jora and Leyla about their grandfather, Loki had expected their tears, but not understanding. Now that they were all back on Asgard, it all seemed much more real to them; it was certainly real to Loki, knowing that the man he'd long been taught to hate and fear was dead. A master of burying his own feelings, he felt an iota of sorrow for the late king of Asgard, but more for his children and Thor than anyone else. He supposed he felt sorry for Queen Frigga, but the two of them rarely talked.

It wasn't that they hated one another, he just couldn't stand the queen's handmaidens looking at him like he was a monster. They really should just keep their hate to themselves and learn to mask their feelings better. If he was honest with himself, he didn't care of Thor bedded the lot of them. He was the one who had borne the uncrowned king's children, the heir to the throne of Asgard, not them. They never would be the mother of Thor's heir. If something unspeakable were to happen, such as that stupid privy council somehow finding some ancient law or such stating that Loki's children could not be accepted on Asgard, he would sweep up all seven and return to Jotunheim, where they would be treasured beyond measure.

To the Jotun, a child was the greatest gift the Norns could bestow upon anyone – and he had seven blessings. 

*

In two days, Thor would be crowned king. It was rather surprising to him, how quickly things came together. Even after his father's lengthy rule, the plans for his own coronation seemed to have been come together in an instant. Then again, Odin had been ill for months and no doubt various people within the staff had been under orders to start preparing things for the inevitable; his becoming king had almost always been a _when_ and never an _if_. However, with all the goings-on, he had yet to have a formal talk with Loki upon his return from Jotunheim.

Family breakfast had continued, now with his mother in attendance, and it was anything but somber. With the return of Jora and Leyla, the meal stopped being stilled and there was laughter and one would hardly believe that this was a family that was supposed to be in mourning.

He was surprised to find the door of Loki's chambers slightly ajar, the jotun was notorious in his need for privacy. He knocked and pushed it open slightly. “Loki?”

“Come in.” He replied and Thor went in, to find him sitting on the couch, several broken dolls lying on the table in front of them. “Good evening. You are up late.” 

“I could not sleep.” He shut the door behind him. “Mending the dolls?”

“There was a block fight in the nursery this afternoon. Thankfully, these are the only injuries that were sustained.” He shook his head. “No, there was not a disagreement – I believe the children are in desperate need of fresh air and running around outside time.” 

Thor sat down in the chair opposite the couch. “This is the hard part of the mourning period, I did not enjoy having to stay inside when my grandfather died, I found it quite frustrating.” 

“Any child would.” Loki offered. “It's only two more days, yes?”

“Yes.” He let out a breath. “Two very _long_ days.” He gave a rueful smile. “How are you, Loki? We have not talked since your return from Jotunheim.”

“I am well as can be expected.” He set down a fixed doll and picked up another, and Thor watched as his hands glowed with seidr as the shattered face of a porcelain doll slowly came back together, the cracks and chips vanishing. “And you, Thor? How are you?”

“I'm – I believe I am doing the best I can, and wishing I could do better.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair, his head falling to the side. “I fear I am not ready to be king.”

“Then you are ready.” He stated, quite simply. “If you felt prepared, then you would be lying. Not even dictators seize and secure power with complete confidence.” 

“I do not understand.” Thor frowned, confused by the jotun's words.

“No one is ever prepared for power. For all their planning, once they have the power, a dictator begins to worry about losing it. When a prince becomes king, it is something he has planned for his whole life, yet, having never truly done it, is not entirely prepared. If he accepts and admits that, then he is ready. Only a fool of a prince marches to his coronation in arrogant confidence.”

He nodded, suddenly understanding. “I just wish it would calm my nerves.”

“Nerves can be good.” He set the repaired doll down. “You are very good at hiding it, your grace.” 

Thor chuckled. “I thought I told you _not_ to call me that.” 

Loki gave him a half grin. “See, I've gotten you to laugh, which is something else you needed.” He took up another doll, and turned it over in his hands, examining the damage. “Is there something else going on?”

“No.” Thor took a breath. “I have already drafted the paperwork that frees you from being a prisoner of Asgard. It will be presented to the privy council the day after the coronation.” 

Red eyes looked at him, blinking in surprise. “However, you and I both know I will not be leaving.” 

“Yes.” He sat back in his chair, rubbing his face. “And it may not fix many things, but it... it's a start, isn't it?”

Loki let out a slight laugh. “It is, Thor. And thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” A thought suddenly came to him, and he lowered his hand, and sat up. He knew that he could not shut the council up on the issue of marriage for long. A year, perhaps two. The answer to shut them up on the subject and secure the children in their place in the line of succession was so obvious, he felt like a fool for not thinking of it sooner. “Loki?” 

“Yes?” He set the doll down.

“Would you marry me?” Thor blurted it out, not intending to – he wanted to bring the subject up gradually.

“Why?” He shrugged his shoulders. “We are not in love, we are not currently sleeping with each other, and if I recall, we are also in the middle of a silent fight that we are hiding from the children.”

“Because...” He stood and began to pace. “Well, you and I both know the privy council is full of idiots and I wouldn't put it past them to pressure me into a marriage before they're all dead. If you and I were to marry, it would, in theory, secure the peace between our realms and protect our children. As for us not being in love, you and I both know that is a luxury not afforded to people of our station.” He stopped behind the chair and held onto the back of it. “And really, if we did marry, it's not as if we would be under any pressure to produce an heir – we already have seven.”

Loki rose to his feet, his expression blank. “I do not believe Asgard will accept a former prisoner and a Jotun as their queen.” 

“My grandmother was from Jotunheim. We have been taking small steps in healing the rift between realms, this will only be a larger step.” He came over to Loki, and hesitantly, set his hand under his chin, lifting it. “All realms should be so lucky as to have a queen as clever and compassionate as you.”

The jotun's hand came up and touched his cheek. “I do not think I am ready to be queen.”

Thor kissed his forehead, gently. “Then you are ready.” 

*  
Loki rested against the balcony, watching the fireworks with only slight interest. He'd excused himself from the wedding feast long enough to put the girls to bed, and he was on his way back to the great hall. It was bittersweet, becoming the queen; shortly to become the new Allmother. He knew that the title was more or less his; but it would be some time before the people of Asgard stopped thinking of Queen Frigga by her recently-relinquished title. He really wasn't looking forward to returning to the party; all that ever seemed to happen at these gatherings was that everyone got drunk; and it usually ended with some so-called nobles getting sick and making fools of themselves.

And they called Jotunheim uncivilized.

No jotun would inebriate themselves to the point of incoherency. At least, not in public. Becoming blind drunk outside the privacy of one's bedchambers was seen as selfish and cruel. Resources were not always bountiful on Jotunheim and imbibing copious amounts of anything, be it wine or food, was considered the epitome of rude.

And they called the Jotun people heartless.

He stretched out his arms, his hands holding onto the balustrade, the golden bangles around his arms clinking together as they bunched up at his wrists. When Thor had been the one to suggest they marry, it had been almost impossible to keep his emotions in check – he hadn't even had to bring the subject up, the prince had done it himself. He had been crowned queen following the wedding ceremony; Thor's own coronation had been two weeks ago. He felt rather bad for the seamstresses and tailors of the city, who no doubt, had been working overtime for the past month and a half, but at the same time, Loki wagered there wasn't one in the city who had been without work. He would never understand Asgard's vanity.

Loki's own garments for the wedding had come from Jotunheim and had only needed minor adjustments. He looked down at the long white silk embroidered in green flowers, remembering that day, two hundred years ago, when he'd been fitted for it – happier times, before the war and the gown had been made in preparation for an unplanned wedding. His dam had been ill at the time, and her last wish had been to make her child's wedding garment, since she had known that she would not live to see him wed. 

The fact that this tunic would not be ending up ripped, wadded up, or discarded on the floor like a rag on this night gave Loki more satisfaction than anything else that happened today.

“Mother?” Valdór's voice cut into his thoughts and he turned. 

“Yes?” He gave his son a smile.

“Is something wrong?” He came over to the balcony, looking over the city.

Loki smoothed down his hair. “No, my boy, everything is perfectly fine.” 

He gave him a suspicious look. “Are the girls really all in bed, or are Jora and Leyla just watching the fireworks from the nursery?”

He smirked. “Possibly. But they are allowed to do that, they were sent to bed, but they were not told they had to sleep.”

Valdór chuckled and the two of them turned and headed back up the hallway, towards the noise of the party. “Do you know when Jösur, Thalia and I are going to be allowed to go visit Jotunheim? Father wasn't certain.” 

“Next summer, I believe. We shall go and your father and the younger girls will stay here.” He chuckled. “Mággá and Hánna will be into everything by then.” 

“Jora and Leyla said your brothers are really nice – and really tall.” He grinned. “We better get back, before Jösur and Thalia eat my slice of cake.” 

“I doubt they will do that love.” Loki smiled and lifted his chin as they came closer to the doors of the great banquet hall. “There is more than enough cake for everyone.” He thought of the large shipment of food that had been sent to his city this morning, so his people could celebrate the wedding in their own way. Tonight, no children under his protection would be going to bed hungry.


End file.
